


Pocket Full of Posies

by androgynousblonde



Category: Original Work
Genre: Angst, Black Plague, Death, Flowers, Gen, History, Nonbinary Character, Nursery Rhyme References, Original Character Death(s), Original Character(s), Other, Plague, Princess - Freeform, old england
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-26
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:55:40
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,427
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29542680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/androgynousblonde/pseuds/androgynousblonde
Summary: Ring around the rosiesA pocket full of posiesAshes, ashesWe all fall downThe king has sent his daughterTo fetch a pail of waterAshes, ashesWe all fall downThe robin on the steepleIs singing to the peopleAshes, ashesWe all fall downThe wedding bells are ringingThe boys and girls are singingAshes, ashesWe all fall down
Relationships: Original Female Character(s)/Original Non-Binary Character(s)
Kudos: 1





	1. Pocket Full of Posies

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a project I did for class but I had fun with it and enjoyed how it came out so I thought I would post it. This is based around the nursery rhyme "Ring around the Rosies" and is based on where the rhyme originated. I might do this again with other nursery rhymes so stay tuned for that.

People were dropping like flies. It seemed every day they would be informed of a new death, a new loss. At this point, they were numb to losing their loved ones. They now knew the painful truth that life was temporary.  
The streets smelled like death. It seemed even the birds knew the state of the world. They barely chirped anymore, just watching the crows pick at the corpses lying in the dirt.  
Petra and Armory sat in the grass together, eerie silence dancing on the wind around them. Petra dug her fingers into the dirt, her dirty red hair falling around her pale face. She hadn’t looked up in a while and Armory was just admiring the way the grass, wet with morning dew, clung to her clothes.  
They relished the silence even if it was an indicator of the despair around them. It seemed that just here, in the posey field, the smell of death stopped. It seemed as if the plague didn’t exist here. Armory loved that. They had lost so many people they loved in the past months. But not Petra. Thank god not Petra.  
Petra suddenly looked up, a large smile plastered across her face. A smile she has somehow managed to keep after losing nearly all of her family. Her green eyes seemed to regain their glow as she moved to sit directly in front of Armory, her fingers stained with mud.  
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Armory asks, snapping out of their daze.  
Petra seemed to glow as she spoke. “Let’s bring the posies to town!”  
“Why?”  
“The death stops out here!” She gestures to the field. The flowers seemed to go on for miles. It felt like a whole other world. “If we bring the flowers to town then maybe it won't smell so bad!”  
She started plucking flowers by the handful, the stems snapping loudly as she yanked them forcefully from their roots.  
“So what do we do with these?” Armory asks, watching the pile of posies in front of them grow with each of Petra’s handfuls.  
She looks up, her hands stained with dirt and pink dye. She started to grin, her emerald green eyes growing mischievous. “We stuff them in our pockets silly!” She started shoveling the sweet-smelling flowers into her pockets, petals falling out of the holes in her dress.  
She pulled Armory to their feet and started filling their pockets as well. The sweet smell seemed to fill the air. Petra stepped back to admire her work. Armory’s pockets were filled to the brim, loose petals falling out as they moved.  
“You really think this is gonna work?” They ask, watching the petals float on the breeze.  
“It’s worth a try right?” Petra takes Armory’s hand and drags them down the hill to the death-ridden town. 

The town seemed like a different planet compared to the field. The sun barely shone and stray dogs ran through the dilapidated streets. Cemeteries couldn’t keep up so the dead were just being dumped in the streets. Bodies were everywhere. Flies flew everywhere, biting at the living and the dead.  
Crows couldn’t even tell the difference at this point. The stench was unbearable and it was impossible to go two seconds without remembering the horrible plague crossing the country.  
Petra’s hand was warm in Armory’s as she pulled them through town. They felt like they were being watched as the eyes of the dead stayed open and stared.  
Armory’s breath caught as dark eyes met blue ones. Dead eyes. Dead blue eyes stared them down. The body seemed to have been there for weeks, the skin gray and cold, flies crawling in and out of the face. Armory couldn’t even tell if it was a man or a woman, the body so far gone it was impossible to tell.  
A chill crawled down Armory’s spine as Petra continued her trek, pink petals flying around her like a fairy.  
The flowers did little to mask the smell but it was still an improvement to the aroma of rotting that stuck to everything.  
“Petra where are we going!” Armory asks, turning their head down to avoid the drilling eyes.  
“The steeple!” Petra grins, her never-ending positivity seeming to glow against the bleak despair around them. “If we throw the flowers of the church steeple then maybe the town will be bright again!”  
The steeple?  
“Petra!” Armory stops, pulling Petra to a stop. She turns to them, red hair sticking to her face. “We can’t go to the steeple.”  
“Why not?”  
“You know why, Petra.” Armory takes their hand back, looking down at their mud-stained shoes. “That’s where the plague is the strongest.”  
“Oh, that’s just a myth, Armory!” She giggles, her smile still bright.  
“Petra,” Armory looks up, their dark eyes filling with tears. They lunged forward, pulling Petra into a tight hug, the sweet flowery scent filling their nose. “Promise me you won’t go. I… I can’t lose you.”  
Petra smiles, wrapping her slim arms around Armory’s shoulders. “You’re not gonna lose me, Armie.” She gently strokes Armory’s dark hair, her fingers catching in the knots from years of not brushing it.  
She moves her hands to their face, cupping their cheeks and looking deeply into their eyes. She runs a thumb along their freckled cheek before squishing their cheeks together, making their lips pucker.  
“A stupid plague isn’t gonna take me out. PETRA ISN’T GOING DOWN WITHOUT A FIGHT!” She lets out a battle cry as both kids fall into a pit of laughter.  
Petra pulled away from the embrace and started pulling posey petals from her pockets. She tossed them in the air, staining it with the fresh scent of life. It seemed just for a moment that the death had stopped.  
That is until a man collapsed in the street. Black spots adorned his face, a puddle of blood pooling from his mouth. It was too late for him. He looked almost peaceful as the petals landed gently on his cooling cheeks.  
“I’ll never get used to seeing that,” Armory says, their eyes locked on the fresh corpse.  
Petra’s smile faded for the first time that day. Time seemed to freeze around her. She had seen too many corpses in her life.  
She shook her head, clearing her mind, and turned back to Armory, tearing their eyes from the death in front of them.  
She reaches out her pink-stained hand. “Come on. Let’s go.” Armory nods silently and takes her hand, allowing themself to be dragged further into town.


	2. The King Had Sent His Daughter

The two continued discarding flower petals like a flower girl at a wedding. At this point, their clothes had been turned from a musty brown to a dirty magenta. Their fingers were caked with dye and flower residue. 

Petra’s smile had returned and she waved happily at the few living merchants that remained in the streets. Armory kept their head down, their hand clutched tightly in Petra’s, refusing to let her go. 

In the center of town sat a dilapidated well. Somehow after years of damage, it managed to stay standing. Rough stones made the rim but the canopy above it was long gone, forcing villagers to pull their own buckets of water. 

Armory would visit the well daily to fetch water for what was left of their family. They knew that well like the back of their hand, which was why they were surprised to see a new face pushing a bucket into the hole. 

The girl was nothing like they had seen before. She was young, about 14, slightly younger than Armory. She had perfect posture and her golden blonde hair fell down her shoulders like a waterfall of silk. Her clothes were clean and expensive and she seemed to shine against the dingy town around her. 

She looked like a goddess. 

The girls stumbled a bit, almost dropping the bucket. Armory ran forward, releasing Petra’s hand who stopped moving and watched as Armory caught the girl’s bucket. 

“Careful now,” they said, heaving the half-full container onto the stone rim. Their shoulder brushed against the girl as she looked up at them. She had beautiful blue eyes, the color of the ocean at dusk. 

“Thank you,” she said quietly, her lips parting into a small smile. Armory’s breath caught as they admired the beautiful girl beside them.

She was smaller up close, the top of her head barely passing Armory’s shoulder. 

“How come I’ve never seen you before?” Armory asks, assisting her in lowering the bucket into the dirty water below. 

“My father just sent me here this past week,” she says, her small hand brushing against Armory’s as they pulled at the worn rope together. “I’m Joan by the way.”

“Armory.” Armory pauses to think for a moment, examining Joan’s clean appearance again. “Wait… Joan as in Joan of England? The princess?”

Her cheeks turn pink as she hides her face in her hands. “Am I that obvious?” she asks sheepishly.

“Well, I would only expect a princess to be as pretty as you.” Armory’s attention is drawn by a red-headed figure doing some sort of dance behind Joan.

Their eyes lock on Petra waving her hands excitedly across the square. Their eyes lock and Petra stops bouncing around. 

_ The posies! _ She mouths, pointing aggressively to her still filled pockets.  _ Give her a posey, lovebird! _

Armory rolls their eyes before reaching into their pockets and finding the most intact posey they had. The petals were folded and it was a little crushed but it still looked like a flower. 

They reach up and gently tuck the flower behind Joan’s ear, blonde hair pooling around the bright magenta plant. The two’s eyes lock as Armory’s hand settles on her soft cheek. 

Time seems to freeze as the two looks at each other. Nothing else mattered in that moment. It seemed the more Armory looked, the more beautiful Joan became. 

A light dusting of dirt stuck to her ever reddening cheeks. Her perfect lips were dry and cracked in certain spots yet Armory still wanted to touch them and feel them against their own. 

“Uh sorry!” Armory states as the moment stops. They pull their hand away, jumping back a step. “The, uh. The flower helps stop the horrible smell.”

Joan giggles, the perfect most heavenly giggle, and tucks a loose strand of gold behind her ear. “Thank you. I love it.” She smiles softly as armory catches Petra’s enthusiastic thumbs up in the corner of their eye. 

“I better be going now,” she says, her eyes not leaving Armory’s face. 

“I could help you carry that!” They offer, not wanting to let the stunning girl leave so fast. 

“Oh, that’s okay. I can handle a bit of water.” She bends down, rolling up her billowing sleeves, to pick up the water. 

Armory freezes as they get a good look at her arm. Black patches of dying skin crawl down her porcelain skin. They had seen that mark far too many times. 

Joan stands up, her sleeve falling back down and hiding the charcoal skin. “It was wonderful meeting you, Armory.” She gave them one last smile and was on her way, leaving Armory to stare after her in disbelief. 

“Well look who’s a romancer!” Petra says coming up to Armory’s side and gently punching them in the arm. “What was that! I didn’t know you were so smooth.”

Armory’s eyes didn’t leave the goddess disappearing into the distance. They felt cold, as if they had just met a ghost. 

Petra scrunches her nose at the lack of reaction. “Hey what’s wrong?”

“She’s dying.”

Petra froze, her face relaxing. “What?”

“She’s been marked by death.” Armory’s voice was emotionless, cold. “Her arm bared the mark of the plague.”

**. . .**

The plague hit Joan fast. She was bedridden within hours. Armory found the shack she was living in and took to fetching pails of water for those that lived with her. They watched as the black death overtook her. 

Not even three days after the two had met, after Armory had first felt love, Joan lost the battle. Armory sat beside her in her final minutes. 

Her hair was stuck to her skin, slick with sweat. Her breathing was ragged and broken. She couldn’t speak without coughing, a pile of blood-stained rags beside her. 

Armory read her books they had brought from home and told her stories they came up with on the spot. They held her hand and held her hair back when she would fold over in coughs.

Black patches of dying skin had crawled up her neck, almost as if she was turning to stone. 

She didn’t speak that final day, trying to save her breath but it seemed as if she knew she wouldn’t see tomorrow. She seemed to know exactly when her life was fading. 

Armory gently stroked her hand as they read from a book they had found that morning. Joan’s hand suddenly gripped Armory’s tightly. They stopped reading, looking up to meet Joan’s sea-blue eyes. 

They stood up, clutching her hand in both of theirs. They knew they shouldn’t have but they gently pressed their lips to her cold clammy skin.

“Armory,” Joan breathes, her voice quiet and rough, her lips stained red. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” Armory whispers, touching her hand to their forehead. Tears were starting to form in their eyes but they didn’t want her to see them cry. 

They met her eyes again. She was smiling, her eyes sad and tired. They were still the same bright blue they were when the two had met the other day. Her finger weakly brushed against Armory’s. 

“Thank you.” Her voice was soft and loving as she slowly closed her eyes, her ragged breathing stopping and her hand falling limp in Armory’s grip.

She was gone. 


	3. The Robin on the Steeple

They had only known her for a short amount of time but the world without her seemed dark. Her body had been carted to the king, to her father. Armory didn’t even get to see her off. 

Armory and Petra stood across the road from the steeple. The building was filled with sadness. The doctors worked there with the priests trying to figure out how to fix the evil that had crossed the country. 

Petra took Armory’s hand. They had been quiet ever since Joan passed. Petra had tried her best to get them to smile but it had only been days since the golden princess had left this world. 

“Is God even real if he allows a girl like her to be taken so young?” Armory asks, breaking the silence. They stared blankly at the steeple, their hand tight against Petra’s. 

“It’s hard to say,” Petra says, following Armory’s gaze to where it rested on a robin perched atop the building. 

The bird bounced around, picking at its dirt red feathers. 

More people were dying by the day. The town population had been cut in half in the past week and the disease was only quickening. 

Armory was all Petra had. Armory’s family had lessened. They had lost their father, their brothers, their sister. And now the girl they had quickly fallen in love with. All they had left was their mother and one last sister. 

And Petra. 

Petra had lost her entire family in three days. The plague took them quickly. Took them while she wasn’t home. She survived because she had been wandering in the woods. 

The two couldn’t lose each other. Not yet. 

“Let’s go get more flowers,” Petra says, gently tugging Armory’s hand. “I still want to throw them from the steeple top.”

“We can’t go inside, Petra.” Armory mutters, allowing Petra to tug them towards the flower field. 

“I know that but it’s a nice dream right!” she giggles, Armory following close behind. 

Petra had cut her hair short, the red locks stopping just below her ear. Her pale neck was visible above her shirt. Armory watched the rough fabric brush against her skin, dirt caking the soft flesh. Small black dots crawled up her spine. 

Armory stopped, their hand falling from Petra’s grip. She stopped as well and turned to her friend. 

“You okay?” she asks, a small smile on her round face. 

“Y-your neck,” Armory choked, their voice shaking. 

“My neck?” Petra reached to scratch her neck, pulling her hand back to examine it. “There’s nothing there.”

“The plague. Petra, it’s on you.” Fear was flooding through Armory’s body. They couldn’t lose her. She was all they had. This couldn’t be happening again. 

“Oh,” Petra’s smile fades. “Yeah, that.” She takes a deep breath and rolls up her sleeve. From her shoulder to her elbow, her left arm was completely black and bruised. 

Armory froze, eyes wide and terrified. “H-how long?”

Petra kept her eyes to the ground, rolling down the fabric. “I first spotted it two weeks ago.”

“You haven’t shown any symptoms.”

“Not when you’re paying attention, I haven’t.” She looks back up, a sad smile growing on her lips. 

Armory rushes forward, planting their hands on her shoulders, looking deeply into the shorter girl’s eyes. 

“Why didn’t you tell me, Petra?” They beg, finally allowing tears to run freely down their face. 

Petra starts to cry too, thick tears falling into the dimples formed from the large smile on her face. “I don’t want you to worry, Armie!” she laughs, closing her eyes. 

“I can’t lose you,” Armory cries. They pressed their face into her chest, crying into her shirt. Petra wrapped her arms around them, gently petting their dark, matted hair. 

“You’ll never really lose me,” she whispers into their ear. “You really think death can stop the reign of the Great Petra?”

Armory manages a laugh through their sobs, holding Petra as close as they possibly could. 

Petra pulls Armory’s face off of her chest, looking into their eyes and gently poking the freckles on their cheeks. “You don’t need to worry about me, okay?” She smiles softly. “Now let’s go pick some flowers.”


	4. We All Fall Down

Petra lasted for two more weeks. She had survived it the longest out of anyone in the town. The light in her eyes never faded. She died with a smile on her face and a giggle in her voice. 

She didn’t get the luxury Joan did. Her body was left on the piles of the dead, the gravediggers unable to keep up with the speed of the black death. 

Joan walked the usual path through the town. They walked alone for the first time they could remember. They passed by the well, unable to look in fear of seeing the ghost of the princess they once knew. 

The streets were quieter. Barely any people bothered to leave their homes anymore in fear the disease would take them from this cruel world. 

They paused in front of the steeple. It was as if they could hear the sound of wedding bells ringing. They could barely remember the last time a wedding was held at this cursed steeple. 

They tried to think back to when they would join the choir kids with Petra and sing off the happy couple. It felt like centuries ago. 

Armory’s hands had been stained pink from stuffing their pockets with pink posies. They had given up. It felt that everyone had been taken from them. Their mother and sister hadn’t survived as long as Petra. They were completely alone.

They stepped into the building of death, slowly climbing the stairs to the top. 

“Ring around the rosies,” they sang softly. Each step felt like a weight added on their shoulders.

“Pocket full of posies,” they could still hear Petra’s laugh, see her smile. She had only been gone for a few days but Armory still waited by her bed in the morning for her to wake up.

“Ashes, ashes,” they held her blanket as they slept, wishing they could hold her again. 

They reached the top of the tower, leaning out the window over the dark town. The day was perfectly sunny yet everything looked gray. 

They gathered the flowers in their dirt-stained hands and held them against the light breeze. 

“They all fall down,” they released the petals, the bright colors dancing against the sky as they flew through town. 

Armory managed to smile as they watched Petra’s dream finally come true. It was beautiful. They could almost forget the pain they had witnessed as the pink shone through town. 

_ Almost. _

Death’s cold breath brushed against their neck as he pressed his ghostly fingertips into their skin, staining it black. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a really interesting writing exercise. I have some more stories I have ideas for so those will probably be posted eventually. I hope you enjoyed this. :)


End file.
